It's Not the Real Me
by A.J. Grey
Summary: The Green Ranger is free from Rita's spell. Plagued with guilt and shame, he can't admit his darkest secret to his new friends. His darker half wasn't completely destroyed with the Sword of Darkness. It longs for another encounter with the one who bested him, the one Tommy is struggling to keep safe from himself: the Red Ranger.


Psychotic voices snarling and whispering, fleeting images of the aftermath of his rage. The victims frozen in a state of pure fear and horror, their mouths full of screams that never left his unconscious mind. He could even smell the thick smoke and the metallic coppery scent of fresh blood. Though asleep, his heart began to pound with such ferocity it seemed to leap into his throat.

The wails reached fever pitch before his dark eyes opened in the blackness, sweat blanketing his skin. The Green Ranger's lips quivered as he panted, shuddering and suddenly tearful. A few determined drops glided down his temple to the pillow beneath.

Dear God, what have I done? How could I let myself be controlled like that?

Tommy pulled himself to sit on the side of his bed and cup his head in his hands. Would this never end? It didn't matter that he was under a spell at the time of his crimes; those transgressions could never be undone no matter how many good deeds and selfless acts he performed. It didn't even matter that those people who he had been determined to destroy had welcomed him into their fold. At least that's what they claimed.

They still doubt me even though they deny it. They still see me as a heartless killer sometimes. Maybe just for a second but it's there.

It had been 3 weeks since he was freed from Rita's influence; but the guilt and shame were as strong now as they were then. All the assurances and kindness from the other Rangers did little to alleviate his suffering. Eventually, he stopped giving voice to his feelings and kept them buried in the back of his mind. The Green Ranger did all he could to block these thoughts during the day but at night...

The clock next to his bed flashed 3:33 am; he could go back to sleep and try to rest before school. Tommy groaned to himself, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

That never works.

Springing up from the bed, he quickly dressed and laced up his sneakers, preparing for a long hard run. It left him utterly exhausted and on more than once occasion, he'd vomited loudly into a ditch, but it quieted the traitorous thoughts swimming in the murky waters of his shadow.

Stepping out into the cool predawn morning, the wayward Ranger inhaled deeply and set off into the still slumbering world.

In another darkened bedroom, a second teen tossed and turned in his sleep, soft whimpers slipping past his lips. His muscular body twitched and tensed, bracing for a phantom attacker. He'd never admit it to another soul, but he couldn't remember being so scared in his life, so sure he was going to die that day. It seemed a certainty.

The Red Ranger had been ambushed, caught off guard by a rabid predator. Too wrapped up in the chaos of what the Green Ranger had done, he'd not noticed the aloof and icy demeanor of the other teen. It almost cost him his life.

Fighting and hiding. Hiding and fighting. Trying to ignore the pain he was in from the repeated blows to his stomach and ribs. The near misses with Goldar's broadsword; his face had very nearly been sliced open.

These memories and fears about what might have been entwined and became alive in a new and horrifying story. Jason groaned and rolled, his sheets tangling with his writhing limbs. It was as if he were back in the Dark Dimension.

The Red Ranger was utterly exhausted, terrified, and trying his damnedest to show neither. First Goldar tossed him around like a rag doll and nearly impaled him at least 3 different times. Now this Green Ranger...

He was being slashed, blood arcing and raining from the evil Ranger's jagged sword. A spray of drops flung along the floor, the marble columns; they sizzled on the electrified metal. Stunned, Jason couldn't even gasp; it was lightning quick. He backed up, stumbling, falling; his blood drenched arms held up defensively. The Green Ranger pouncing on him, forcing the blade through his chest, and shredding his heart.

"NO! STOP!"

The Red Ranger crashed to the floor, knocking his head on the nightstand but mercifully jarring himself awake. He felt a throbbing pain over his eye and brought a trembling hand up, feeling for anything wet. It felt intact but swollen.

"Shit...," Jason growled to himself, trying to chide himself for being so foolish and force his fear away.

Like I need anymore wounds to hide.

Blindly reaching, he felt for the lamp and flicked it on, eager to dispel some of the darkness. He managed to disentangle himself from the knotted bed sheets and stood, hand still holding his aching head. The teen gingerly found his way down the hall to the bathroom to assess the damage visually.

It wasn't going to be too bad; just an ugly knot.

"Idiot," he whispered.

The mirror showed the truth of what he'd endured 3 weeks prior. For his bullheadedness, he had an angry red but healing wound across his bicep, fading greenish bruises to his ribs, and most disturbing of all, the small reddish pink stab wound to his chest. He would be forever grateful to Billy for teleporting him out before the evil sword punctured his heart but this would be a lasting souvenir. He ran a finger over injury, feeling the roughness of new scar tissue forming.

I'm glad this is over now. Tommy's one of us, he's where he belongs.

Thinking about the newest Ranger, Jason felt a pang of sympathy that helped quell the lingering dread from the dream.

He didn't chose this; he was told to attack, to kidnap, to kill.

It was such darkness to carry on one's soul. Tommy no longer mentioned the guilt, shame, or apprehension that he had at first. He had confided to Jason that he was afraid he went along with Rita because part of him wanted to do these heinous acts.

"I'll talk to him this afternoon, just the two of us," Jason promised himself.


End file.
